


rough and tumble

by skeletalparade (boythighs)



Category: South Park
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 22:57:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19877458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boythighs/pseuds/skeletalparade
Summary: The ceiling had started to crumble when he was just a kid, cracks and splinters and flaking paint, but staring at it now as he flops onto the bed, Kenny decides that it has never looked simultaneously its worst and its best. Boxes litter the room, each one stuffed to the brim, the ratty old mattress stripped bare of sheets, pillows tossed somewhere in with the rest of his things. The bedframe creaks (and what a familiar sound, Kenny thinks with a grin that exposes the precious gap in his teeth) when his company sits down on the edge, right next to where Kenny’s thin legs dangle over the side.Across town, there is an apartment withKenny McCormickandCraig Tuckerscrawled along the dotted lease line.





	rough and tumble

**Author's Note:**

> i come off a nine month fic hiatus, as per usual, to deliver nothing but pointless fluff. i'm thinking i may somewhere down the line come back to this and make a series out of it (probably soon; i'm a gay with no impulse control), but i'm marking it as complete and a standalone for now. i like these two a lot, and i had so much fun writing this, so we'll see.
> 
> anygay, i hope you guys enjoy!

The ceiling had started to crumble when he was just a kid, cracks and splinters and flaking paint, but staring at it now as he flops onto the bed, Kenny decides that it has _never_ looked simultaneously its worst and its best. Boxes litter the room, each one stuffed to the brim, the ratty old mattress stripped bare of sheets, pillows tossed somewhere in with the rest of his things. The bedframe creaks (and what a familiar sound, Kenny thinks with a grin that exposes the precious gap in his teeth) when his company sits down on the edge, right next to where Kenny’s thin legs dangle over the side.

Across town, there is an apartment with _Kenny McCormick_ and _Craig Tucker_ scrawled along the dotted lease line.

His childhood bedroom devoid of life is both the saddest and most exciting sight Kenny has ever seen in his entire life, though not nearly as enriching as that of Craig’s chest that first time they had removed the bandages, post-op. Together, with trembling hands, peeling back the only layer separating Craig from some semblance of an overdue peace-of-mind. In a way, that was not entirely unlike the two of them working as a unit to take down and box up all of Kenny’s things, burying the ghosts of his dreary past to make way for their starlit future.

Kenny lets out a breath, chest deflating underneath his threadbare t-shirt, and gives his boyfriend a nudge with his knee. Craig turns to look at him, face just as expressionless as it always is until he raises his eyebrows at the dopey grin Kenny is wearing so brazenly. Unlike Craig, Kenny has never been the sort to hide what he’s feeling. In fact, he’s the type to loudly and proudly proclaim _everything_ he feels, in the very moment that he is feeling it, regardless of the mood and atmosphere around him.

“What?” Craig asks, voice a deadpan drawl that still gets Kenny’s heart working overtime like a broken wind-up toy. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that staring is rude?”

The mattress squeaks beneath him as Kenny pushes himself up, laugh whistling out through the space between his teeth. He reaches out to give Craig’s hood a quick, easy tug, thankful that the other takes the hint to move closer to him on Kenny’s childhood bed. They’ve spent a lot time on this bed, the two of them, almost as much time as they have on Craig’s bed – which is the one that they’re taking with them. It’s actually already loaded up in Kenny’s pickup truck outside, not nearly as beaten up as Kenny’s secondhand one, after all; there are _way_ fewer questionable stains, although it does have its fair share of them.

“My parents failed t’teach me a lotta things, darlin’.” Kenny teases, letting Craig settle back on the mattress so that the two of them can stare at the ruined ceiling together. Off to the left of the bed, there is a spot that sports a consistent leak when it rains, and for the duration of most his life Kenny has had to keep his wastepaper basket on the floor right under it to catch the water.

There aren’t any leaks in their new apartment. No holes in the roof, no cracks in the ceiling.

“You’re being weirdly melancholy.” Kenny turns to look at Craig, his grin falling just a little, his chest tight, because he shouldn’t be feeling any type of way about leaving this place behind. But it’s hard to let go of the only place he has ever called home, and he knows that he’s going to miss Karen terribly, even though she can take care of herself just fine, now. Kenny made sure he taught her how, always knowing that the day, _this_ day, would come eventually, when he would be forced to spread his fracture-splintered wings and take to the sky.

He just never really thought the sky would be so seamlessly cloudless, sunshine slipping in through all the cracks of him.

Craig doesn’t resist when Kenny rolls onto his side to wrap his arms around his waist, tucking his face against Craig’s neck with a small huff. “S’weird, man. I guess I never thought – like, I knew I would move out eventually, but actually, really doing it… it’s just weird.”

Kenny doesn’t need to wonder if Craig understands what he means; Craig always gets it. They had both grown up on the wrong side of the tracks in their own ways, but they had crossed that railroad together, hands clasped between them like a lifeline.

It had been hard as fuck, too, always a new obstacle to stumble and hurdle over on legs that never felt strong enough. Finding jobs was hard, and despite the fact that Kenny had studied his ass off in high school, college was out of the question for him right now. When it came to monetary concerns, getting a place of their own had been the top priority, and Kenny’s job at the mechanic shop only provides them with so much income. Craig, on the other hand, has a small scholarship to South Park Community College, and he intends to go in the fall. How he plans to balance that on top of managing the local pet store, Kenny has no idea.

They’ll figure it out, though. They always, always do.

“Yeah.” Craig runs a hand down the length of Kenny’s back, tucking him closer into his side. “I know what you mean. It was super weird saying bye to Trish this morning.”

Silence lapses, coiling down from the shitty ceiling and settling itself in their crevices, and it is starting to feel less than pleasant. Not wanting to spoil the mood any further – it’s their goddamn moving day! They have a fucking apartment, one that isn’t completely awful! It’s pretty damn _nice,_ actually – Kenny sits up, smoothly slinging one leg over Craig’s tiny waist to straddle him. For a second, Craig allows himself the opportunity to look up at Kenny in total shock, Kenny staring down at him, wielding his sunshine-smile like it’s a weapon. Often times, it is.

“Enough of the bizarre sad shit. We gotta celebrate the fact that we’re moving into our _own place_ today. This is pretty fuckin’ huge, man!”

“You know, usually people have sex to christen places, not when they’re abandoning them.” Craig’s nose wriggles and Kenny’s face melts into a smirk.

“Craig Tucker, that is _highly_ presumptuous of you. Who said anything about havin’ sex?” As he says it, Kenny leans down, face all up in Craig’s business, nose tip to nose tip. “I was only sayin’ we should do something to _celebrate.”_

Craig snorts as he responds, “Everyone and their fucking mother knows that ‘celebrate’ is just a fancy euphemism for raunchy sex when it comes to you, dickface.” Kenny laughs, sweet and bright, a sound like honey that makes Craig positively beam beneath Kenny’s weight. Well, as much as Craig _can_ beam, anyway.

“Fair.” A humming noise resonates in Kenny’s chest, but it’s not him that closes the distance between their mouths. It’s Craig, pressing up into the scant space, drinking in the taste of candy on Kenny’s tongue when he opens up to let Craig in. Easy as breathing, the two of them kiss, hands wandering into oh-so familiar territory; Kenny’s shoved under Craig’s hoodie to touch all over his stomach and chest, Craig’s dipping down lower to grab Kenny by the ass and scoot him further up, right where he wants him.

They kiss for a while, until Kenny is grinding desperately down against Craig, the friction hardly enough, and Craig’s hands have moved from above Kenny’s pants to push under the waistband of his jeans and underwear. They don’t go where Kenny wishes they would, though, so he whines into Craig’s mouth, a sound close to begging, a language that only Craig speaks. That’s when Craig pulls back like the tease that he is, leaving Kenny achingly hard on his lap, fantasizing about pushing into wet heat and holding Craig down by the back of his neck.

Craig doesn’t even flinch when he rolls Kenny off of him, the bastard, but Kenny sees how the splotchy red of his flush travels down his neck, curled up around the back of his ears, and grins. He may act so unaffected, his own arousal not visibly noticeable, but it’s still there – and that makes Kenny pretty gleeful. They are definitely going to christen the new apartment as soon as all of their heavier furniture is moved in. Shit, man, Kenny might not even let him put the bedframe together. Fuck a bed, dude. He might just make Craig ride him on the mattress on the floor, with the way things are looking.

“We still need to load your boxes up.” The subtle crack in Craig’s voice when he speaks makes Kenny snicker, earning him a Grade-A Craig Tucker Stare Down. “Shut the fuck up, or I will make you do this shit on your own.”

Kenny pouts. There’s no way Craig will actually let Kenny do all the moving by himself, though he certainly could (he may be thin as a stick, but he’s strong as _hell_ ), so the blonde doesn’t worry too much about the repercussions of being a little antagonistic. “Babe, don’t be like that. It’s okay that you’re going through a second puberty. It happens to the best of us.”

It is by no means surprising when Craig stands up to grab one of Kenny’s old pillows off the box they’re stacked on, flinging it at his boyfriend with absolutely no remorse, and goddamn if Craig doesn’t have a good arm from all the time he spent playing baseball in middle and high school. The laugh Kenny lets out is muffled by the flattened-out pillow, dated and yellowing. He grabs hold of and gets to his feet, watching Craig hoist one of the boxes up and head out the door of Kenny’s old bedroom.

Eyes fixed to Craig’s ass, Kenny lets out a low whistle, Craig unhesitating as he flicks Kenny off over his shoulder before he disappears down the hall, Kenny’s echoing laughter chasing him all the way to the front door.

One by one, they load the boxes up into the bed of Kenny’s truck, putting what doesn’t fit into the back of Craig’s red 2003 Honda Civic. The last thing left in the room, when Kenny goes back, is the picture frame on his makeshift bedside table. It’s actually just a wooden crate he’d found mostly undamaged at the dump, almost a decade ago, but over the years it has served its primary purpose well. Kenny doesn’t need it now; Craig has an actual end table for them to use in their bedroom. Still, saying goodbye to this one is a little bittersweet, like much of today has been.

Kenny picks up the picture in its sleek, aged-down black frame, and smiles fondly, if not a little forlorn. It is a picture of him and all of his childhood friends – Kyle, Stan, Cartman, Butters, and even Craig’s gang, all situated and smushed together on and around the couch that used to be in Liane Cartman’s living room. She has since replaced it with a better, softer piece of furniture and given the old one to Cartman, who has it in his apartment now. Kenny will never forget the memories made on that couch, all the pointless shows they had watched together, the video game nights, the pillow forts, the crumbs and toys lost to the cushions.

But this picture, Kenny remembers it being taken, remembers everything about that day – Cartman’s thirteenth birthday party – because right before he and Craig had sat together on the floor in front of that couch, Craig had pulled Kenny aside into the bathroom to press a soda-sticky kiss to his cheek like it was nothing. In retrospect, Kenny thinks, maybe it _was_ nothing – but maybe, and more likely, it was _everything._

“Hey.” Kenny startles, turning around to find Craig standing in the doorway of the gutted bedroom. He hadn’t heard him come back in, Kenny had been so lost in thought. Craig walks over to him and hooks his chin over his shoulder, looking down at the picture that Kenny holds like precious metals in his calloused hands. “Pretty gay that you kept that."

Kenny’s shoulders shake with a small puff of laughter. He looks back down at the picture, at that thirteen-year-old version of himself with the missing front teeth smiling at Craig, who is smiling right back, braces on full-display. “Things are so different now.” He says, and Craig surprises him by shaking his head.

“Nah.” Kenny turns just enough to look at him, confused, jostling Craig’s chin off his shoulder. Craig just reaches back out to wrap his arms around Kenny, no display of embarrassment over what he’s about to say, even though he rocks Kenny’s world with the sincerity of it, like it’s no big deal. Like it wasn’t ever a big deal that he had changed Kenny’s entire life with one childish show of affection. “I loved you then, and I love you now. The important shit always stays the same.”

He tugs Kenny in for another kiss, soft and sweet and rich with that aforementioned love, the last kiss they will ever share in this bedroom. It leaves Kenny’s heart aching, both wishing he could turn back time to relive it all over again, shitty as some of it had been, and longing for the long days they have ahead of them. There are plenty of years left to make new memories, Craig’s kiss tells him quietly, ones more important, better ones, even, than the one immortalized in the picture frame, and that leaves Kenny feeling breathless. Dizzy, lightheaded, and so very, very excited.

Craig gives him a gentle tug after he pulls away, sliding a hand down to clutch at one of Kenny’s. Their fingers tangle together, weaving through and through, rough palm pressed to soft.

“Now come on. The quicker we get all this crap unloaded, the quicker we can christen the new place.”

Kenny grins softly and allows himself to be led out of the room, pausing only to flip the light switch off as they pass over the threshold of the bedroom that Kenny is oddly sad to leave behind. He gives the empty room one last look, curtains fluttering, and remembers being a child, sitting on the edge of his bed staring at the wall in total darkness. Alone, sad, hopeless, ears deaf to the sounds of screamed profanities and shattering glass. But he turns back to Craig who is guiding him away from his past, who has _always_ been guiding him away from the past, and follows on featherlight feet to the front door.

“I think I like the sounds of that.” Kenny says to Craig’s back, grin softening ‘round the edges, the frame in his free hand clutched tight. “I think I like the sounds of that a whole awful lot, Craig Tucker.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading. please, if you liked it, leave a comment and then come be my friend on [twitter](https://twitter.com/disastergore)! i certainly need more people to talk to.


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